


The Epitome of Idiocy

by tabine



Category: Total Drama
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabine/pseuds/tabine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And as the saying goes, “Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind.” Particularly so when strategy and the like are involved, apparently. Heather, Alejandro, and a decidedly different sort of competition. Alternate universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Introductions and Similar Formalities — A Foreword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the stage is set, the players introduced, and it is quickly established that this story is neither uncomplicated nor drama-free (because, after all, what would be the fun in that?).

"Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind." – Kevin "Malcolm" Doyle, _27 Dresses._  


This story contains various types of references to sensitive material such as alcohol, drugs, and certain types of mature content. While any character(s) engaging in any of these types of things can safely be assumed to be of an appropriate and legal age (unless otherwise stated, in which case a proper warning will be made beforehand) **viewer discretion is advised**. Thank you.

* * *

In the end it was decided that if only one person was to be blamed for the entire ordeal, then that person was little Abuelita Isabel. The decision hadn't come about after hours of analysis and scholarly debate, naturally, and instead was more of a commonly understood and mutually agreed upon fact, if only because Isabel Vega was a darling old woman who was undoubtedly the very personification of everything good in the world, and the mere idea of such a sweet lady even _thinking_ some remotely malicious thought was laughable simply on principle. Some of her closer relations, of course — particularly those more inclined to believe in such things as superstition and the paranormal — argued that Isabel had known what was to happen all along, thanks to the gift of foresight she had inherited from her gypsy ancestors, but their rationale was considered eccentric, at best, and even the old woman herself insisted that whatever ability she may have possessed was, at best, minimal.

Ultimately, it all proved to matter very little at all, because the story of Isabel's role in the whole thing was always the same, regardless of whom you asked: while on her daily walk early one cool September morning, Isabel had made the spontaneous decision to change the route she'd taken every day without fail for the last thirty-four years, which in turn led to a series of strange and unexplained events (including the involvement of an older gentleman who claimed to be a vendor of fine cacti and pineapple and similarly prickled and spiny feats of botanical wonder) all of which resulted in the youngest of Isabel's grandsons volunteering to oversee the affairs of her restaurant while she spent the next few weeks recovering from a broken hip.

The rest of the tale, unfortunately, had a tendency to change, depending on the person you asked, but rest assured, for what you are about to read is, for the most part, nothing but the truth of what eventually came to be known as the greatest love story known to humankind. Or, rather, what _could_ have been known as such, but was kept under wraps for a very long time due to the threat presented by a series of lawsuits and the looming danger of an international scandal potentially presenting itself to the public eye. At least, that's what I eventually came to understand when trying to pinpoint why this story was kept from the public for so long — personally, I'm inclined to believe that it really had nothing to do with such grand affairs as international crime and scandal whatsoever, but more along the lines of... well, I suppose I'll let you decide _that_ for yourselves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins — that is to say, the beginning of that "Aleheather business AU" I've been talking about nearly nonstop (on tumblr, at least) for the last month and a half or so. Then again, the entire premise of said AU has changed completely since I first began planning it, but whether or not that ultimately proves to be for the good of the entire fic proper is up to you to decide. However, the basic premise, at least, has stayed mostly the same despite the continued revisions in that both Heather and Alejandro, for all their scheming and strategy, find that this strange concept of "love" is creating a considerable and noticeable problem in all their well-made plans. Whether or not either of them are so quick to refer to this new sensation as such, however, still remains to be seen.
> 
> Because this chapter functions only as a preface, rest assured that subsequent installments won't be this brief or seemingly unrelated. As the author, however, I do still have a few more tricks up my sleeve, though in that department I suppose it really is only up to me to see that I follow through with them. Wish me luck.
> 
> Critique and feedback of any sort is, as always, greatly appreciated. Merry Christmas, and thanks once again for reading — I hope that whatever is yet to come meets everyone's expectations.
> 
> This chapter was originally posted on **December 25, 2013**.


	2. Of Unlikely Princes and Their Assorted Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the concept of "love at first sight" is proven to be more of a happenstance than an actual legitimate thing (though the matter of fairy tales continues to the subject of much debate).

This story contains various types of references to sensitive material such as alcohol, drugs, and certain types of mature content. While any character(s) engaging in any of these types of things can safely be assumed to be of an appropriate and legal age (unless otherwise stated, in which case a proper warning will be made beforehand) **viewer discretion is advised**. Thank you.

* * *

Once upon a time, in a faraway land that was actually much closer than one would expect, a young and handsome (and incredibly sexy) prince found himself on his hands and knees, scrubbing away dejectedly at an already spotless kitchen floor while all around him, people bustled around him, completely ignorant to his plight as they hurried to-and-fro busily.

Well, something like that. Alejandro sighed and stood up, tossing a wad of paper towel soaked with cleaning solution into the trash as he did so. When he was younger, such fantasies had kept him amused for hours whenever he found himself tasked with the completion of a variety of menial tasks, such as coursework or group activities or attending the many frivolous dinner parties thrown in his parents' honor he'd always been forced to attend as a boy. Unfortunately, while it had proved a foolproof way to pass the time in his childhood, it seemed the tactic didn't work quite as well in adulthood. " _Dios mío_ ," he murmured to himself. "What a night it's been, and it's not even nine o'clock yet."

"Mr. Burromuerto?"

At the sound of his name, Alejandro turned, carefully schooling his scowling countenance into an expression of genuine concern. "Ah, Cynthia. Feeling any better?"

The girl nodded. "One of the waiters covered for me while Rhonda was helping me in the bathroom." She nodded down toward her left arm, which was cradled gently against her body so as to not jar the white gauze wrapped carefully around it. "It's not deep, at least, and it hurts a bit if I move it a lot, but I can still work for the rest of the night if you need me to."

"No, no," Alejandro said with a shake of his head, carefully placing his hand on Cynthia's shoulder and navigating her through the kitchen, toward the staff lounge beside the office at the back of the building. "I would much rather you go home and rest for the night instead." He smiled knowingly at her. "Believe me when I say that I truly understand what the life of a student is like — I was in your shoes too, not so long ago. I'll see you again on Monday." Truthfully, the main reason Alejandro wanted to send her home was to prevent any more blood from spilling should the cut in her arm accidentally reopen. Not that blood made him queasy, of course; Alejandro simply wanted to avoid making any more messes where he could. Besides, Alejandro found Cynthia rather clingy and annoying, and that was at the best of times. He wasn't so heartless as to not schedule her for work or fire her without notice (because he really _had_ been truthful when he'd told her that he understood what the hectic life of a university student with numerous obligations was like, and how important a steady a steady job was) but he found that he'd rather avoid her juvenile attempts at flirting as much as humanly possible.

Cynthia looked up at him and bit her lower lip in what she obviously thought was a rather coquettish sort of way; Alejandro thought it made her look like she was suffering from indigestion. "Well," she began dejectedly, "only if you're sure..."

They'd reached the door to the staff lounge, now, and Alejandro, ever the gentleman, politely held it open for Cynthia. "I'm sure," he replied curtly, and she gave him a strange look before slipping past him to sign off her shift and gather her things to leave for the evening. He caught himself, however, and offered a smile as she slung her purse over her shoulder. "But please, take it easy, and get some rest."

"Alright, then." Cynthia smiled up at him, and Alejandro allowed the door to the lounge to swing shut as the young bartender made her way to the staff entrance down the hall. "And thank you, Mr. Burromuerto — have a good evening!"

" _Gracias_ ," Alejandro said as he watched the young woman leave the building. Only when he was certain she had left did he lean against the door frame for a brief moment of reprieve before he was obligated to return to back to the hustle-and-bustle of the restaurant, allowing his features to settle into a very displeased frown. "Though whether it really will be good or not still remains to be seen." He closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly with one hand before straightening and pushing of the wall with other, and with one last sigh of weariness and resignation, Alejandro turned back to the kitchen and the hectic evening that still lay ahead of him.

It wasn't that Alejandro disliked his grandmother or her restaurant by any means. In fact, it was just the opposite; his fondest memories from his boyhood days had all taken place in this very establishment, or at the very least in the presence of his darling _abuelita_ , and as such she was one of the very few people in the world he was willing to go to any lengths to help however possible. And so, when Alejandro had received word earlier that day that Isabel was in the hospital and would be forced to remain on bed rest until she was properly healed, he had immediately offered to be of assistance in any way possible. Thus Alejandro had found himself promising his _abuelita_ to act as the manager and supervisor of _La Corona_ until Isabel was well enough to resume her duties. She had worried, of course, about her grandson's standing at the firm at which he worked as one of its youngest project directors, though Alejandro had somehow managed to mollify her enough to the point that she finally agreed to accept his help.

"But your real work must come first, Alejito," Isabel had told him in her calm and gentle voice. "Promise me that."

And naturally he'd been forced to agree. "Of course, Abuelita," he'd assured her. "I promise."

In the end, Alejandro had known that in the long run, his promise would be an easy one to keep. Isabel was very particular when it came to the affairs of her business, and not once in his entire life could he remember even one instance of chaos or disorder. Even the knowledge of her absence had caused little more than a small murmur of concern amongst the staff when Alejandro had given them the news mere hours ago, and business had proceeded as usual. Alejandro had to do little more than come in to supervise the establishment a few times a week, particularly on the weekends, and take careful stock of the restaurant's inventory and revenue, noting the information down carefully in order to present it to his grandmother when he visited her next. This was the single most important guiding principle and rule Isabel had insisted on, and Alejandro had assumed that adhering to it would be simple enough.

Still, it is a proven fact that any rule is guaranteed to have at least one exception, and it had quickly become apparent to Alejandro that this particular Saturday evening was meant to be exactly that: many members of the restaurant's staff had called in earlier to inform him that, due to extenuating circumstances, they would be unable to come in to work that evening, and as such Alejandro had found himself quite understaffed for the night. Cynthia's accident as she was serving patrons at the restaurant's generous bar (in which she'd managed to not only break a handful of serving glasses specially imported from Spain but also cut herself on a particularly sharp and jagged piece while attempting to clean up the mess) and subsequent departure had certainly not helped matters at all, and with the position of bartender as of yet still unfilled, Alejandro had quickly realized that only one truly probable solution to that problem existed, albeit one he was not overtly fond of. Yet upon returning to the kitchens, Alejandro nonetheless navigated the hot ovens and steaming stove tops with ease until he reached the swinging double doors that separated it from the main dining area, pausing only once to check his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall beside them. Only when he was satisfied that his tie was straight and his hair properly smoothed down did Alejandro place a hand on the cool polished rosewood of one of the doors, and with one last sigh push the door forward and step out onto the restaurant's main dining floor.

Compared to the flurry of activity in the kitchens, the main floor was remarkably calm, particularly for a Saturday night, and it was for this reason Alejandro supposed that perhaps Lady Luck had indeed decided to smile upon him for the evening after all. Though a vast majority of the tables and booths were filled by diners enjoying the famed authentic cuisine of _La Corona_ , the number was no more than what was expected on the average weeknight, and so no where near the greater influx the restaurant normally anticipated on the weekends. This, in turn, made it that much easier for Alejandro to find the person he was looking for. "Ambrosio," he said, tone level and even as he approached the restaurant's maître d', "since we have no one to replace Cynthia for the evening, I'll be the one at the bar tonight. I realize that we aren't too busy tonight, but inform me immediately if I am needed for anything — you know where to find me."

The older gentleman gave him a quick nod of understanding in response, and though his expression seemed, to the casual observer, to exude the level of sophistication and propriety one would expect from any of the staff at _La Corona_ , Ambrosio's trim graying mustache twitched nonetheless as he tried in vain to hide his amusement from the authoritative way in which Alejandro spoke to him. "You're such a big boy now, Alejito," he said, eyes twinkling merrily even in the relatively dim lighting of the main floor. "I wonder when you grew up."

Alejandro suppressed another frown; Ambrosio was one of the youngest of Isabel's cousins, and though Alejandro had never cared much for the jocular manner in which Ambrosio acted toward the family's younger generations, he was family all the same — there were rules about that. "I grew up a long time ago," he responded coolly.

"Of course, of course." Ambrosio crossed his arms, closing his eyes and nodding thoughtfully to himself as he did so, and when he opened them a moment later, any hint of amusement had vanished, to be replaced by pure business. "Very well. I'll be sure to inform you immediately should any problem arise." And with that, the maître d' turned smartly on his heel, and walked away.

Narrowing his eyes, Alejandro continued to glare frostily at the older man's retreating back for a few moments longer before continuing on to the bar at the other side of the main floor. His timing couldn't have been more impeccable even if he'd tried: barely two minutes passed had from the moment Alejandro first stepped behind the polished granite and rosewood of the bar before he found himself catering two obviously well-off young ladies, followed shortly thereafter by a group of business associates celebrating a successful merger of some sort (and painfully reminding Alejandro of the pile of paperwork from his own firm waiting for him at his apartment).

After that, Alejandro found himself thoroughly occupied for the next two hours as people continued to flock to the bar in a steady, but still manageable, stream. When he finally had an opportunity to properly check the time again, Alejandro was pleased to find that it was already almost a quarter to eleven — little more than an hour remained before the restaurant was to close for the night, and if he was lucky, Alejandro would be able to finish locking up for the night less than an hour after that. His only concern now was how he would keep himself busy until then, as the patrons of the restaurant who had approached the bar while waiting to be seated were now well into their main courses, while the others had left the premise of the restaurant entirely, no doubt in search of some of the established night clubs in the surrounding area and the adventures that awaited them there.

The thought of those same clubs caused Alejandro to silently give a prayer of thanks. Although spending a Saturday night working at a restaurant on an evening where everything seemed to be against him was hardly his idea of good time, he supposed it definitely could have been worse — Alejandro could have been roped into another one of his cousins' crazy schemes to pick up someone (or a few someones, in the event that Julio, his second cousin by marriage, chose to make an appearance) at whatever establishment was unfortunate enough to bear their presence, and Alejandro would have naturally become the designated wingman _and_ designated driver of the night, if only by default, as he didn't particularly trust any of his cousins to do the same for him. Alternatively, he could have very well spent his evening at his parents' extravagant home or visiting with some of his other relations, but though Alejandro did have a certain amount of affection for at least a select few members of his extended family, it certainly wasn't enough to make him want to spend his Saturday night with any of them. Then again, perhaps being so proud and overbearing really was the Burromuerto way, and as he finished drying the last of the glasses Cynthia hadn't managed to destroy in her clumsiness, Alejandro thought to himself that he now had a better understanding idea of what being suffocated by one's family might actually feel like. Still, at least any encounter with any member of the Burromuerto clan – and even the members of their very extensive extended family — was guaranteed to be a bit of an adventure in its own right.

 _Oh, adventure_ , Alejandro thought to himself idly as he began to tidy up the rest of the bar a bit more, _how I miss your whimsically tempting ways_ — _what a cruel mistress you are, to deny a man and leave him wanting like this_. It sounded quite poetic, he decided after turning the phrase over in his mind a few times, as out of the corner of his eye he saw someone take a seat in front of him at the bar. After tucking the towel he'd been using to wipe down the bar's granite surface discretely beneath the counter, Alejandro rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows in a rather professional sort of way before turning to his newest customer with a suave smirk. He wasn't quite prepared, however, for the way his heart seemed to skip a beat as he found himself looking at the coldest, most beautiful pair of grey eyes he had ever seen, or how, for the first time in his life, Alejandro Burromuerto actually forgot how to properly speak when in the presence of a beautiful woman. He caught himself quickly, however, and barely a second later and managed to compose himself appropriately, taking care to up his smirk from being merely _suave_ to an advanced level of _roguishly debonair_ in the event that the lady sitting in front of him had noticed his momentary lapse. "May I be of assistance?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her for good measure.

Fortunately, it seemed she hadn't noticed at all — her attention had been focused on something she was reading on her phone, and it quickly became apparent that whatever it was she had been perusing so intently had just as easily soured her mood. Alejandro could see the anger in her eyes. "Yes. Vodka soda on the rocks, please, with a slice of lime. And make it strong." Her voice was brusque and business-like, with a commanding, haughty sort of richness to it. It carried the same iciness as her eyes, and the sensation of it all sent a shiver down Alejandro's spine.

 _How interesting_. "More vodka than soda then, I take it?" Alejandro reached under the counter for a tumbler and the jar of cold frosted glass they kept the wedges of lime in. "Sounds like you have had a very rough day."

She shrugged and ran one perfectly manicured hand through her dark hair. "I've had worse," came the reply as she watched him deftly prepare her drink. "Believe me, you'd be able to tell pretty quickly if I really had a rough day. But, yeah — today was pretty damn shitty. Pardon my French."

"Of course." Alejandro placed a coaster near the lady and set the glass upon it. "Care to talk about it? My _abuela_ – my grandmother, that is — says it is always best to get rid of any negative emotions and thoughts by talking about them. Keeping them in is bad for the skin, you know." He flashed her what he hoped was a good-natured grin, and was surprised when she not only seemed to accept it but also smiled back in response, although the look in her eyes continued to be cold and distant. What surprised him more, however, was how earnestly he'd spoken; he'd sincerely meant every single word he'd said. Then again, he supposed he meant it only on an empathetic level as a kindred spirit of sorts — his day had been awful as well, after all, and as the age-old saying went, misery (or, at least, a certain amount of empathy) certainly did love company.

"Your grandmother must be a wise lady, then," the lady said, offering Alejandro another small half-smile of her own as she reached for her drink and brought it to her lips. "Your skin looks excellent." She took a sip of her drink. "And you're not half-bad at making drinks, either."

Alejandro responded with a flourishing bow. "I would be honored to pass on a compliment from such a lovely lady to my grandmother," he began, "as well as receive a compliment of my own from her as well. Thank you." He straightened and leaned down, using his forearms to support himself on the cool, smooth countertop. "Though I'm afraid I did not quite catch your name, Miss...?"

"Heather." She lifted the glass to her lips and allowed herself another liberal sip as she feigned indifference, though Alejandro could still see the blush tinging her pale cheeks as a consequence of the compliment he had just paid her in turn. "My name is Heather."

"Well then, Señorita Heather," came the reply, "you may consider me, Señor Alejandro, advocate for clear skin and brewer of fine drinks, at your service." And when Heather narrowed her eyes but continued to smile at him nonetheless, Alejandro thought that perhaps the rest of the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have the first "legitimate" chapter of this whole thing. Finally.
> 
> I kid, of course, but it's actually a bit true, in a way — I've actually had this chapter written, transcribed, and mostly edited for a few days, now, and the only thing preventing me from actually going through and updating it was my own indecisiveness re: the manner in which I wanted to post it. Ultimately, it seems that I finally settled on some sort of decision on the best way to tackle that problem, and here we are now, with Alejandro and his current situation properly introduced (for the most part), with that of the lovely Miss Heather to follow shortly after.
> 
> With all that being said, I'm afraid I actually don't have much else to say in the way of notes. As always, any further commentary can always be found on Dreamwidth/Livejournal or tumblr (links can be found on my profile), and feedback and critique of any kind greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading, and a merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone.
> 
> This chapter was originally published on December 25, 2013.


	3. Of Bad Days and Their Forms of Compensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Heather becomes a bridesmaid, gets a job, and hates the world (but not exactly).

This chapter contains mild amounts of alcohol consumption, strong language, and some adult content (though nothing is explicit). **Viewer discretion is advised** ; thank you.

* * *

Once upon a time, there lived a princess who did not believe in fairy tales. Or, rather, a princess who chose not to believe in them — she was no victim of a cruel stepmother, nor was she a frightened maid locked away in a tower at the mercy of some evil magician or dragon, whose only hope for salvation was in the arms of the brave knight who could release her from the despair of her shackles. No, this princess was her own jailer, and the cold frozen wastes of her own heart her personal prison, for she was one who did not believe in love.

Heather did, however, believe in luck and chance, and the importance it played in properly strategizing for a particular situation. She wasn't so superstitious the way some people were in the way they allowed it to rule their lives, of course, but Heather understood the distinct strategic advantage luck presented in nearly any type of situation well enough, in the same way she understood the benefits of strategy alone.

Strategy, Heather had come to learn over the years, was incredibly important, perhaps much more so than the average person seemed to realize. Then again, she supposed she did have every reason to believe so, because if it weren't for the manner in which she approached any situation in order to formulate and decide upon a particular strategy that would ultimately prove to be the beneficial to her, Heather knew she really wouldn't have gotten anywhere in her life: she would still be the same overweight and unattractive brace-faced and bespectacled _loser_ she'd been in middle school, alone and miserable with no one to blame for her position but herself.

But that had been over ten years ago, and after Heather had resolved to put in the effort to transform herself into the queen bee she'd always liked to envision herself to be, she hadn't looked back even once. Her strategy to advance herself further had worked, after all, and following the success of that initial plan, Heather had followed her self-imposed doctrine of _strategy means success_ with a fervor that bordered on the vaguely religious.

It had all paid off in the end, of course: Heather had graduated at the top of her class not only as head cheerleader and captain of both the volleyball and dance teams, but as student body president as well, with a scholarship to one of the top universities in the country in one hand and a paid internship to a certain prestigious firm for the entirety of her student life in the other, and all before her eighteenth birthday, no less. And her winning streak hadn't ended there by any means — she'd graduated from that same university four years later, with her name topping the dean's list for continued academic excellence with degrees in business, English literature, and French (although Heather did admit to pursuing that last degree merely for her own amusement) and as the president of one of the most well-known and influential sororities on campus. Naturally, everything had only gone uphill from there — upon her graduation from university, the sister company of the firm she had worked for as an intern all throughout her student years had offered her a commission for a job in France with a salary any average recent graduate could only dream about, and barely two years later, Heather had established herself as one of the foremost up-and-coming wedding planners in western Europe. She wasn't even twenty-five years old yet, but Heather was already well on her way to having the world in the palm of her hand. At least, she liked to think so.

But as loathe as she was to admit it, Heather had not managed to come so far simply on her own. Indeed, for all the advantages her strategizing and drive to succeed had given her, she had also been blessed with a certain amount of luck as well. This was proven to be particularly true when her term with the French company came to an end, and Heather had relocated herself back to Toronto as she prepared for the launch of her own business in the wedding industry, because while it was true that her skills had been highly sought after amongst the upper crust of European society, the same wasn't quite true at home in Canada. So when she received a phone call regarding a rather important matter from one of her oldest friends while seriously contemplating moving back into her parents' home until her business properly blossomed, Heather had literally thanked her lucky stars for giving her the opportunity to plan what would most certainly be one of the biggest weddings of her entire career, with the role of the blushing bride played by none other than her former roommate (and currently her best — and very likely only — friend) from university.

Courtney Ríos was not the sort of person Heather had ever imagined herself getting along with in anyway whatsoever, let alone befriend, and while it _was_ true that their first semester together as roommates wasn't exactly the greatest, the end of Courtney's relationship with the delinquent on the third floor shortly into their second semester had been the necessary catalyst for the development of what quickly proved to be a strong and lasting friendship between the young pre-law student and Heather. They'd been roommates for the next three years as well and had only grown closer, and even graduation and the eventual demands of the adult world hadn't even put a dent in their friendship — they had been there for one another, through every messy break-up, every horrible boyfriend, every night of drunken revelry and poor decision-making and more, since they were eighteen years old, and even years later, it was obvious that would never change. Yet when Courtney had called excitedly that Tuesday evening with news of her engagement to the "Spanish hunk" she had been dating (Heather had never actually met José, but she had been told that he was the son of a very important diplomat), Heather was nonetheless pleasantly surprised when the lawyer had asked her to be her maid-of-honor. She'd agreed, of course, and in the midst of the uncharacteristically girlish giggle she'd let out immediately after, Heather had almost missed her friend's request.

" — Heather, did you even hear me? I mean, if you don't want to plan the wedding, it's fine. It's a lot to ask, I know, and I'm sure José and I can find someone else to do it if you're too busy, but — "

 _Almost_. "Wait a second. Did you just ask me to plan your wedding?" Heather had almost dropped the phone in shock.

Courtney had laughed in response. "I wouldn't trust anyone else, you know that."

"Good point," Heather had replied with a smirk, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she pulled her cat into her lap as she began stroking Bruiser's soft white fur absentmindedly. "You need proper strategy and planning when it comes to these kinds of things. And as we both know, I _am_ the best." And then she fell silent for a moment. "Hang on — did you say José was a Burromuerto? As in, _the_ Burromuerto clan?"

"You've heard of them, I presume?"

"Remember that wedding I did last summer, the one in Tuscany where the bride's senile great-grandfather decided that publicly using the centerpiece of the head table as a giant toilet at the reception was a good idea?" Heather had closed her eyes and forced herself not to remember the incident. It didn't work. "The groom's brother's second wife was a Burromuerto, so a few of her people came to the wedding, too. They're _loaded_ , Courtney." _And probably involved in something illegal, too,_ Heather added as a silent afterthought. "They're not blackmailing you, are they?"

" _Heather!_ " Had they been talking face to face, Heather was certain she'd be able to see the fire in Courtney's eyes at such an implication. "I'm not being blackmailed by anyone! I promise, I really do love José, and he loves me, and I know Alejandro and I had our differences, but I swear to you that absolutely nothing weird or illegal is going on."

Rolling her eyes at the mention of the other man, Heather had huffed in irritation. "I can't believe you still talk to that jerk. He used you, Courtney!"

"That was a years ago," came the reply. "It was right after college, and we were both young and dumb and stupid then. We've moved past it, and we're actually really good friends, now." There was a pause. "Actually, Heather, Alejandro's still single, and I know — "

And Heather had sighed before responding firmly. "No. I don't care how long ago it was — he still used you and broke your heart, and as far as I'm concerned, he's an asshole. No."

"Fine, fine," Courtney had replied, feigning annoyance even though Heather could very well hear the amusement in her voice. "Back to more positive things: will you be our wedding planner? I promise, the pay will be good."

At the mention of money, Heather hadn't even hesitated with her answer — after all, planning the wedding of a member of one of the most famous families in the world could do nothing but further Heather's career. The fact that he was marrying her best friend was just an added bonus. "I do." Courtney, in turn, hadn't hesitated to set up a date for her fiancé to meet up with her best friend and their wedding planner, telling Heather that José would meet her that Saturday evening for drinks at a local authentic Spanish restaurant so that, in Courtney's own words, "her two favorite people could finally meet".

Unfortunately, it appeared that was when Heather's good luck had run dry, because it seemed that every day since Courtney had called something or the other had horribly wrong: Bruiser had gotten sick all over Heather's bed Wednesday afternoon, and then there was the fiasco at the salon when she'd gone to get her nails done on Thursday. Friday hadn't gone too bad at all, all things considered, unti Heather had left the gym after her workout to discover that her car had been towed — apparently, _pineapple_ conventions were very common in the area this time of year.

But all that paled in comparison to today. Heather had woken up that morning to discover she'd overslept and missed her yoga class completely, and when she'd rummaged through her cupboards to at least fix herself a nice brunch, Heather realized that she was rather overdue for a trip to the grocery store; there wasn't anything to eat but cat food. At least, she'd thought to herself, then, the torture inflicted upon her by the monthly luncheon at her parents' house would be lessened by the promise of food — until she realized that she'd have to get there via _public transportation_ (as her car was still impounded after being towed yesterday, and Heather didn't have enough cash for cab fare both there and back). Arriving at her parents' house to learn that her _perfect_ older sister and her _perfect_ husband were expecting yet another _perfect_ child hadn't really matters much, either, especially when everyone in attendance over the age of thirty began to continuously nag Heather about when _she_ would finally get married and start having children, because _you work in the wedding industry, I_ _'_ _m sure you_ _'_ _ve met at least one nice groomsman you could settle down with_. Heather had been about to reply to the statement with a quip about how it was unwise to let work interfere with her personal life in such a way, but Damien had piped up with a comment about how no one would want to date a harpy like Heather, which had made her realize that if she said anything at all after that point, it would only be a very steady and very loud stream of expletives. So Heather had kept silent and finished her plate before rushing to leave, muttering something under her breath about how she had an appointment with a very important client that she didn't want to be late for _so I really should be going now_ — and of course it _was_ at that moment the heel of her favorite blue stilettos had to break, all before three o'clock in the afternoon. The rest of the day had gone as horribly as could be expected, to be crowned by the realization that José never showed up; indeed, a few text messages and a quick phone call later, Heather discovered that he had completely forgotten about their plan for drinks. Typical.

Then again, Heather decided, perhaps this, at least, would work out in her favor — just because José hadn't shown up didn't mean she couldn't drink, and so here Heather found herself sitting at the bar of what was easily one of the most famous and reputable five-star restaurants in the entire region, being served by and flirting with an _incredibly_ sexy bartender who seemed to have had as bad of a day as her. The fact that he had made her the best vodka soda she'd had in ages certainly didn't hurt, either. And even though they had the same name, _this_ guys certainly didn't seem anything like Courtney's stupid jerk of an ex-boyfriend.

Still, Heather couldn't help but wonder exactly why she was telling a complete stranger about her day. There was the alcohol, of course, particularly when one considered the fact that she was now on her third drink, but Heather was fairly certain that her level of intoxication wasn't the answer she was looking for. Maybe it was the bartender himself — not only was he incredibly good-looking, but he was also quite charming (as far as bartenders went, anyway). It seemed to her, too, that a bit of empathy was at play as well, considering the fact that the bartender's day clearly hadn't gone as he'd hoped, judging by what he'd told her about it so far; she'd thought he was sweet for agreeing to watch over the restaurant in his grandmother's absence, of course, but when he got to the part about the employee trying to flirt with him, Heather actually found herself laughing wholeheartedly into her glass, even as she gave silent thanks that vodka sodas were the feature drink of the night and as such were half-off. At least her bank account and credit cards wouldn't hate her in the morning.

"Blonde, clumsy, a bit of an airhead, and completely immature in her approach to an attractive member of the opposite sex." Heather stirred her drink thoughtfully and looked up at through her eyelashes at the attractive man in question. "Sounds to me like she's not exactly your type, Señor Alejandro."

She regretted saying it immediately, and through some strange ability Heather did not quite understand, Alejandro seemed to know it. Still, when he set down the bottle he'd been wiping dry and loked at her in a way that was both thoughtful and curious, Heather couldn't help but feel a certain amount personal satisfaction, nor could she supress the shiver of delight that ran down her spine when she watched him bite his lower lip before he responded. "And exactly what do you think my type is, _ma_ _'_ _am_?"

If there was one thing Heather prided herself on beyond her gift for strategy, it was her ability to gauge and accurately predict the outcome of a particular situation — and she found herself liking the direction the one was taking more and more with every passing moment. However, that wasn't how one played this particular game, and with a slight shrug of her shoulders and a quick flutter of her eyelashes, Heather feigned innocence. "Personally, _sir_ ," she told him instead, "I think it's hardly appropriate or necessary for me to tell you that. Why don't you just tell me what you like?"

"As you wish, _se_ _ñ_ _orita_ ," Alejandro responded with a soft laugh before glancing down quickly at his watch. "It seems to m, however, that you've not only shut down the bar, but the entire restaurant as well. Perhaps, if you don't mind waiting a half hour or so for me to officially, as you say, _close shop_ , you would do me the honor of continuing this conversation over a few beers?"

Heather arched one perfect eyebrow at him. "Only the good stuff," she replied. "Do I have to pay for them?"

"Consider them complementary," Alejandro said with a knowing sort of look.

It made Heather's heart to a strange sort of fluttery action in her chest, and she shivered again. "Very well." She smiled at him pointedly over the rim of her glass as she finished the rest of her drink, and he gave her a flourishing bow before letting himself out from behind the bar to lock up the rest of the restaurant. "Then it's a date."

Of course, it turned out that Heather needn't have waited a full thirty minutes for the proposed date anyway, because seventeen minutes later she found herself lying on the bar itself, the marble surface of the counter cool and hard against her back as she kissed any part of Alejandro's skin she could reach almost feverishly while he leaned over her and returned the action with just as much fervor.

"I thought he'd never go," Alejandro murmured against her collarbone, referring to the elderly _ma_ _î_ _tre d_ _'_ , who had been the very last of the restaurant's employees to leave; barely a moment after the man's departure, Alejandro was pressing his lips eagerly against Heather's, and she'd found his large, strong hands closing around her waist and lifting her up onto the counter even as she wrapped her legs tightly around him, allowing them to rest comfortably on the subtle flare of his hipbones. " _Dios_ , I swear he does it on purpose just to aggravate me."

Heather responded by wrapping the smooth black silk of his tie around her hand and then pulling on it lightly, effectively brining Alejandro's face barely a hairsbreadth away from her own; she was close enough that she could see the stubble on his cheeks. It was incredibly hot. She could feel herself blush. "Less talk," she hissed.

Alejandro responded by leaning forward and catching her bottom lip between his teeth, and Heather could not help but moan in response, which was promptly swallowed when he properly kissed her a second later. When he pulled away, he was smirking devilishly at her, and Heather found herself shuddering in anticipation for what the night would bring.

"In that case," he told her, "I'll make you scream instead."

She found herself agreeing with the proposition wholeheartedly, though if you were to ask Heather about it later, she would deny every single moment of it. That didn't stop her, however, from moving in closer to Alejandro's warmth the following morning, as the sun peaked around the curtains of one of the guest rooms his grandmother kept in her flat above the restaurant, nor did it prevent Heather from letting out a very content sigh when Alejandro wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, shifting his weight so he was once again leaning over her almost predatorily. His hair was falling into his eyes, and Heather found herself brushing it away — Alejandro caught her hand and brought to his cheek, and although his stubble scratched against his palm, Heather didn't find it as gross or uncomfortable as she would have had it been some other man. "Do you say good morning like this to every girl you bang in your grandmother's restaurant," Heather began as she allowed her hand to trail from his cheek to his neck, and from there up and down the hard, solid muscle of his chest, "or am I the first?"

"I only _bang_ women, not girls, and only then the ones who have that certain spiciness I crave," Alejandro told her. "Almost all of them are unable to keep up with me, though, in which case I suppose the answer to your question is yes — just you."

"Good to hear." Heather propped herself up on her elbows a bit. "Except now I wonder exactly who is keeping up with whom."

He offered her a smirk in response and leaned down closer to her. "Then I propose we find out."

They probably would have found out, too, were it not for the fact that Lady Luck chose that exact moment to desert them both, because while Alejandro and Heather subsequently spent the next few minutes occupied with one another, each failed to notice their phones vibrating incessantly due to a barrage of text messages and ignored phone calls. Then again, perhaps these messages and calls were superfluous, at best, because, from the room Heather and Alejandro were in, if one were paying attention, it was really quite easy to hear a car pull into the private parking garage on the other side of the restaurant, the beep that echoed off the surrounding brick buildings as it was locked, the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened and then subsequently closed and locked, voices in the foyer directly below the occupied bedroom, followed by the owners of those same voices ascending the stairs to the upper level of the flat and then walking down the hall itself. And then, perhaps, if one had been paying proper attention, they would notice the doorknob jiggle slightly before the door opened, creaking slightly on its hinges as it did so, and maybe then they'd notice the appearance of two figures standing in the doorway, looking on at the activities going on within with expressions of… well, I'm not sure what they're expressions were like, really, since no one will tell me anything, but I'm almost certain that there was a no small amount of shock about the whole thing.

Of course, neither Alejandro nor Heather noticed any of this, because naturally neither was paying any proper attention to anything that wasn't the other. It was only when Heather heard a woman's familiar voice call out her name almost questioningly, followed immediately thereafter by a man asking, "Al?" did she notice them.

 _Them_ , naturally, meant Courtney, and a tall, handsome man Heather could only assume was the José she'd heard so much about. And Heather, being the incredibly intelligent woman she was, was quickly able to put two and two together.

"Alejandro?" she managed to say, panting.

He nodded. "Heather?" It had been meant as a question, but given what had just happened, it sounded more like statement. And, perhaps, just as well, because at that moment, Courtney chose to speak up.

"So, Alejandro," she began nervously from where she still stood in the doorway, "I take it you and Heather have already met. But, uh — yes, José, that is Heather, my best friend, maid-of-honor, and our wedding planner. And Heather, this is my fiancé José, and, well. That's Alejandro, José's little brother, and my ex-boyfriend. You know," she trailed off lamely, "the one you hate."

Alejandro blinked at her as, from the doorway, José doubled over in obvious amusement. "Heh. _Hola, chica_ ," he said over his older brother's laughter. "It's an honor to finally meet you — I've heard a lot about you, you know."

Heather groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Just… fuck my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's just past five in the morning, I desperately need to sleep, and so I didn't really properly edit or proofread this chapter. That being said, you have my apologies for any and all minor errors in this installment; it's my bad, yo.
> 
> Anyway, the plot thickens. We've had our bits of foreshadowing until now (and we still have some more to go, actually) but who's to say what may or may not happen from here? Certainly not me. Heh. Still, I'm sure it's guaranteed to be interesting, at any rate.
> 
> Like always, any form of feedback or critique — even if it's just to say what you specifically liked or disliked about this story thus far — is deeply appreciated. I mean it: any feedback at all helps me get a better understanding of how to make my writing more enjoyable for everyone everywhere, myself included. But, I digress — thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this latest installment!


	4. Of Sassy Siblings and Needlessly Complicated Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tension becomes belligerent, certain deals are made, and it is quickly established that all brothers are really nothing more than stupidly smug bastards.

This chapter contains some adult content (though nothing is explicit), as well as a certain amount of innuendo.  **Viewer discretion is advised**.

* * *

Over the course of his life, circumstances had forced Alejandro to become the sort of man who was neither easily taken aback by certain situations, nor was he the type to find himself at a loss for words in any event; his pride as a Burromuerto would not allow him to stand for it, after all. To say that it took a lot for he to become overwhelmed by a particular series of events was, naturally, an understatement of epic proportions. However, for the first time since his boyhood, Alejandro found himself decidedly unprepared for the situation at hand, and he found himself becoming increasingly displeased with every passing moment — the underlying sense of embarrassment (and even worse, _guilt_ ) only made everything that much worse. Having José in the immediate vicinity and still wearing that stupid all-knowing smirk certainly didn't help matters at all, either, and Alejandro could only thank his lucky stars that Heather and Courtney were, at least for the moment, tending to things upstairs, while the two brothers busied themselves downstairs in the kitchen as they worked to prepare a late brunch that would make their grandmother proud.

At least, the food would; Alejandro hadn't been the most willing to explain the situation in detail when he had phoned Isabel's hospital room forty minutes earlier with an update on the restaurant the previous night and his assurance that _everything is fine, Abuelita, José and I are just having brunch at your place with some friends today, Ambrosio and Emilia will be here at noon and we will leave once they arrive — yes, Abuelita, I love you, too_. She seemed to sense that something was bothering him, of course, but had decided to leave her inquisition for another time, for which Alejandro was incredibly grateful. After all, how did one go about telling their grandmother that not only had they just slept with their brother's wedding planner, but the wedding planner was also the best friend of his brother's fiancée, who just so happened to be an ex-girlfriend whose heart he had broken, and whose best friend — the aforementioned wedding planner — therefore hated him for doing so, despite the fact that he and said ex-girlfriend had clearly moved passed it and made up and the best friend had never even met or spoken to him before. Until, of course, they had accidentally slept together while he had been watching his grandmother's restaurant for her, only to be discovered the morning after by his brother and the ex-girlfriend-turned-fiancée, thus bringing the entire needlessly-complicated situation full circle. To say that it was something Alejandro didn't care to talk about was safe assumption, to say the least; unfortunately, it was obvious from the moment he'd seen his little brother in bed with his fiancée's notoriously hot-tempered best friend that José was hellbent on getting Alejandro to talk, and through any means necessary, at that.

Which, for the moment at least, seemed to be by being as irritating as humanly possible, likely in order to keep the women upstairs from suspecting anything if he had opted for louder, more physical methods. "So tell me, _Al_ ," José asked him for the seventh time in the last two minutes while simultaneously stirring the pan of sauce for the _huevos rancheros_ on the stove with practiced ease, "how was she?"

"Why would you want to know?" Alejandro replied tersely, finally deigning José with a response as he finished setting out the last of the _magdalenas_ to cool. "And be careful — or do you actually _want_ to risk serving Courtney burnt food?"

José merely shrugged and moved on to frying the eggs, which fortunately required more finesse and concentration than stirring the sauce or preparing the _tortillas_ did. "All I mean to say is that I have heard a lot about the infamous Ice Queen; apparently she is quite the lover." He paused for a moment, before casting Alejandro a sidelong glance and shuddering. "Now that I think about it, however, forget I said anything. I do not enjoy thinking about you engaging in any form of intimacy."

Alejandro allowed himself a very smug smile of satisfaction as brushed past his brother to one of the cupboards near the sink. "Being intimate with Courtney must be very unpleasant for you, then." He heard his brother splutter in response as Alejandro's hand closed around the glass jar of coffee beans (Isabel was not a fan of pre-ground coffee powder by any means), but any further reply José might have had was quickly cut off by the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and moments later, Courtney entered the kitchen, followed shortly thereafter by a rather irate-looking Heather, and whatever self-satisfaction Alejandro may have felt at his jibe toward José quickly withered away as he fought valiantly to avoid meeting her cold grey eyes.

"It smells amazing in here," said Courtney before she pressed her lips quickly to José's cheek. Alejandro shifted uncomfortably as he felt José's smirk directed at him, well aware of the fact that Heather was leaning against the counter barely five feet away from him, and appeared to be wearing what looked like one of his own dress shirts and a skirt that looked like it made her uncomfortable with how short it was. Unsure of how to respond, Alejandro instead swallowed nervously before feigning indifference, and began to pour the coffee with shaky hands.

"We just finished making everything, if you ladies are hungry." José wrapped his free arm around Courtney's waist and pulled her close for a kiss as he deftly placed the last of the _huevos rancheros_ onto the pale blue ceramic platter on the counter in front of him. "I hope we aren't being presumptuous and forcing you to stay for a meal against your will, Miss Grayson. And you have my sincerest apologies as well for missing our date last night; something came up at work, you see. I'm sure you understand — after all, I'm sure Alejandro knows what I mean."

It took everything within Alejandro to not drop the coffee platter and basket of the sweet yellow _magdalenas_ and wrap his hands around his brother's neck as he carried them to the table — the next time the two of them were alone, he would have to be on his guard, because as far as Alejandro was concerned, José was a dead man.

But it seemed that Heather hadn't noticed Alejandro's internal struggle at his brother's words; she merely shook her head and offered José a small, albeit frosty, smile, very pointedly refusing to acknowledge Alejandro in any way unless she could help it. "No, I understand; Courtney explained everything to me while we were upstairs. I hope it wasn't too much of a hassle to make all of this, though. It smells delicious." She straightened up and tucked a stray wisp of dark hair behind her ear. "And, please: just call me Heather. You're marrying my best friend, after all. There's no reason to be so formal."

Jose gave her what he clearly thought was a winning smile; it made Alejandro want to retch. "As you wish, _señorita_. Now then, shall we eat?" He gestured toward the table as Courtney picked up the platter of _huevos rancheros_ , and Alejandro fervently prayed that he wouldn't have to sit beside Heather.

It seemed, however, that some universal law regarding his prayers remaining answerless had been enacted that day, and after the idle chatter and shuffling that followed as the four of them took their places at the table, Alejandro found himself sitting beside none other than Heather herself. There were a few moments of awkward silence, then, as Alejandro strove to look anywhere but the woman beside him (he could have sworn that he felt the distaste emanating off of her in distinct and tangible waves), and Courtney was laughing at something José was whispering in her ear, until he finally decided enough was enough.

"Have you ever had an authentic Spanish _desayuno_ before?" Alejandro asked in an attempt to make casual conversation as he placed one cup of coffee in front of her, forcing himself to meet Heather's gaze for the first time since Courtney had formally introduced them to one another. "Though I do suppose it is more of a late brunch. Milk and sugar?"

She narrowed her eyes, but did not look away. "I can't say that I have," she said rather curtly. "My family really isn't the sort for ethnic cooking — my mother is Polynesian, but we only have traditional food whenever my grandmother visits." Heather reached for the sugar bowl. "Here. I'll do it myself."

Alejandro pulled his hands away, though he wasn't quite fast enough; their fingers brushed together for a brief moment, and Alejandro froze as he felt the spark he'd experienced the first time he saw Heather present itself once again and memories from that night began to play in his head. He saw Heather freeze, too, and watched as her face began to flush slightly, but barely a moment later, the spell was broken, and normalcy resumed. Relatively speaking, at least.

" — you're going to love it, Heather," Alejandro heard Courtney say as he turned his attention to his own coffee, taking a small sip and grimacing internally when he realized he'd taken it without any sugar. It was too late to add any now, though, and with a small sigh of resignation he reached for one of the still-steaming _magdalenas_ , hoping its sweetness would at last partially counteract the bitterness of the coffee. Heather, meanwhile had added the sugar and milk to her own cup (a surprisingly large amount of milk, Alejandro noted, along with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar) and was stirring its contents while staring pointedly at the simple white table cloth. Her fingers, he noted, were long and graceful, and for a moment Alejandro wondered if she played violin or piano.

Apparently oblivious to whatever had transpired at the other end of the table, Courtney continued on, while José's attention alternated between his plate and something he was reading on his phone. "Isabel — that's José's and Alejandro's grandmother, you'll love her — has the best recipe for _huevos rancheros_ you'll ever find, and Alejandro's _magdalenas_ are to die for." She smiled and leaned against José contentedly. "Except I think José's _crema Catalana_ is my favorite."

"What was that you were saying earlier about things being apparently 'very unpleasant' for me, _Al_?" José asked; Alejandro forced himself to take another bite of his _huevos rancheros_ in order to have a reason for not responding, and so Heather took the opportunity to speak.

"Good-looking men who can cook this well are hard to find these days," Heather said. She gave Courtney a knowing look. "You'd better keep a good eye on José, Courtney — I may just end up hiring him as the caterer for all my future weddings."

At the mention of _weddings_ , Courtney straightened noticeably. "Oh, that reminds me." She reached for a folder sitting at the edge of the table and opened it; from where he sat, Alejandro saw a handwritten checklist with the words _Basic Wedding Logistics_ handwritten neatly at the top of the page. "I wanted to talk to you soon and get some of the basics for this wedding out of the way before we got into all the little details. Is that okay?"

Heather sighed. "You do realize we're not living in the Victorian era anymore, right? There's these things called _computers_ and _printers_ , now, so you don't have to keep writing down everything by hand."

"You know how I am about lists," Courtney shot back, "but we're getting off topic, here. Alejandro needs to get his stuff together before the _maître d'_ and his daughter get here to take care of the restaurant for today so he can head back to his place, and José and I need to drop you off at your apartment before we head to the embassy for the day." She bit the inside of her cheek hesitantly as her eyes widened, and when she fixed Alejandro with a curious look a second later, he found himself rather worried about what was about to take place. "Unless you could take her home, Alejandro? Her apartment is on the way for you, and this way none of us have to rush this whole thing. It's _perfect_!"

Simultaneously, Alejandro and Heather both opened their mouths to reply, but were cut off quickly by José. "What an excellent idea, _hermosa_ ," he told Courtney with a smirk and a certain glint in his eye that Alejandro found he really did not care much for at all. "It's settled: Alejandro will be a gentleman and escort Heather home so that you and I will not be late for the meeting with dignitaries from the _marqués_ ' party this afternoon. How clever you are, _mí querida_."

Courtney beamed. "It's settled, then. Now we can get down to business." She ran her finger down the list quickly. "We want to get married in early summer, as you know, when it's not too hot or too cool, and I told you that it's going to be in Spain, right? José's parents insisted on it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Alejandro watched Heather nod. "I was a bit worried when you told me how soon you two planned to get married, but if it's going to be a destination wedding, that actually gives me a much better idea of how to strategize the best way to tackle this whole thing." She tapped her fingers on the smooth surface of her cup idly. "It'll be a bit difficult planning everything from here without being able to go on-site and getting some work done in Spain at least once before the wedding, though."

"Alejandro and I will be traveling there in December to spend the holidays there with our family as we do every year," José began, "and Courtney and her family will naturally be going as well. You are welcome to join us, if you wish."

Heather shrugged noncommittally. "I think it's still to early to make those sort of plans, if you ask me," she replied, "but I appreciate the offer all the same. But for now, let's just stick to what we know for sure." She looked at Courtney again. "How big is the wedding party?"

Alejandro shifted uncomfortably in his seat, growing increasingly aware of the direction the conversation was headed, and so stood up to excuse himself from the table as a possible means of escape. "My apologies," he said cooly, meeting Heather's gaze briefly before he glared at Josê icily; only Courtney was spared a look containing any ill will. They'd made their peace long ago, after all, and he was more than well aware of what damage her ire could cause. "Working the late shift at _La Corona_ last night set me back considerably in my paperwork for the current project my office is handling. If you'll please excuse me, I'll be taking care of at least some of it upstairs while you three continue your discussion. I'm afraid I don't have anything constructive to add to this conversation, either — I'm more of a third wheel than anything."

"Nonsense, little brother," José said, clearly enjoying Alejandro's obvious discomfort. "Not only is the lovely Heather Grayson our wedding planner, but Courtney's maid-of-honor as well. And though I love and respect _mí querida_ dearly, where would I be in this entire wedding process without my best man?" He grinned slyly as Courtney nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

Knowing that he had been defeated for the moment, Alejandro took a deep breath, willing himself to to hide his irritation as well as he was able. "As you wish," he said as he took his seat once more, wondering not for the first time why on earth he had agreed to José's request in the first place. Alejandro knew the answer, of course; for all the torment he had put his younger brother through in their youth, José had mellowed out considerably upon reaching adulthood (particularly so when this relative calm was compared to what was deemed standard for the Burromuerto family) and the two had grown much closer since then. Still, more often than not, Alejandro found himself annoyed with his brother's antics, with the current situation being a prime example of that irritation, and Alejandro leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Normally, he was not one for smoking, but at that moment, Alejandro realized that all he wanted was a cigarette, if only to watch José's stupid smirk falter as he sputtered and cough when Alejandro blew the smoke into his face.

Beside him, Heather tensed noticeably. "So, _you're_ the best man," she mused, though it was more of a statement than an actual question. "I can see why you wanted to wait and surprise me, Courtney. I should have known."

"To be fair, I think we were all pretty surprised." Courtney looked from Heather to Alejandro before glancing up at José quickly. Then she sighed. "And now that the elephant in the room has finally been addressed, can you two please stop being so awkward around each other? I mean, _hello_ — we're all adults here, and we've all had one-night stands and done other things we're not proud of before. And if you want to talk about things being _really_ awkward, why don't we bring up the fact that I'm engaged to my ex-boyfriend's older brother, and that the ex-boyfriend is going to be the best man at the wedding?" She frowned at both Alejandro and Heather, while José's grin grew simultaneously wider.

"We're not being awkward," Heather and Alejandro muttered in unison. They glared at one another. " _Stop that!_ "

Courtney smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two are a match made in heaven. But," she continued, before either Alejandro or Heather could interrupt, "I _do_ happen to know better, and if _someone_ is smart, they'll keep their smart remarks to themselves for the time being." She elbowed José in ribs for emphasis, and man winced and looked down at her sheepishly. Alejandro smiled to himself — he knew there was a reason he still liked having Courtney around, even after the messy end of their relationship. "We all have places to be and things to do, though, so now is obviously not the time and place for that."

Heather blinked at Courtney. "I take back whatever I said about you going soft for a man." She shrugged. "No offense, José."

"None taken."

"Does anyone have anything else they'd like to add?" Courtney asked, and Alejandro was reminded once again of how obsessive she could be in her need to control a particular situation — it probably came as a blessing as a member of the bar, or when negotiating various policies with foreign dignitaries at the embassy, and he sincerely hoped it would do her well when she finally married into the family. The Burromuerto clan had a tendency to be a bit brutal, after all. "No? Perfect. Now, Heather, here are the possible color schemes José and I were considering for the wedding — what do you think of this combination?"

But Heather shook her head. "I need more information about the wedding before I can start looking at swatches of color, you know. Aside from the fact that it's somewhere in Spain, where's the venue? And you never answered my question about the wedding party, either." Her gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. "I know you're excited about being engaged, and believe me, I'm excited for you, too. But you have a way of going ahead with things with a single-mindedness that makes you ignore everything else around you until it finally comes back to kick you in the rear. You know what I mean, right? Like what happened with Duncan?" She waited for the other woman to nod slowly before continuing. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't let your emotions get the better of you. Don't get ahead of yourself. Besides, I'm your wedding planner _and_ maid-of-honor." And then Heather smiled. "How many brides get to say _that_?"

Courtney feigned a sigh of exasperation, though it did little to hide the amusement on her face. " _Fine_. You're lucky I trust you enough to take charge about this, you know. I usually don't let other people be in control. But I'm in a gracious mood today."

If Alejandro was being completely honest, _gracious_ was perhaps the last word he would ever use to describe Courtney. Then again, he supposed that he really was no better, nor did he have any right judging her — it was no secret, after all, that he had been the one to manipulate her when they had still been a couple. Still, he was surprised to see her give in to Heather's questioning so readily, though he supposed that from a certain perspective, it made sense. Nonetheless, he found it fascinating to watch two women with such strong personalities (at least, women with such strong personalities to whom he was not related) interact in such a way; even José had ceased his jibes and jokes, and was going so far as to give his own input on certain details when prompted.

Or, perhaps, it was Heather's professionalism regarding the entire situation he found most fascinating. After Courtney's outburst, it was as if Heather had become an entirely different person; she'd even turned to him a few times over the course of the conversation to ask his own opinion on whatever the subject at that moment happened to be, though those times seemed to be more of a facade or a mask than anything. Alejandro did wonder if he were simply imagining the feeling that Heather was being even colder to him than she had been previously.

Then again, it was probably for the best, as it turned out that the shirt Heather was wearing was, in fact, one of the spare shirts Alejandro had packed when he had offered to watch the restaurant the previous day; with the dress she had worn the previous evening in no state to be worn again until it had been properly dry-cleaned and no extra clothing of her own to wear, Courtney had suggested borrowing one of Alejandro's shirts, reasoning that "you can always send it out for dry-cleaning before you give it back — and Alejandro's not the sort of guy who'd mind, anyway". The skirt, it turned out, was actually Courtney's, which explained why it it was so short on Heather's comparatively taller frame. Even in borrowed clothing, however, Alejandro still thought Heather looked quite the professional woman as he watched her borrow a pen and a sheet of paper from Courtney and jot things down from time to time. His shirt (a deep wine red, and one of his favorites) rather suited her, he thought, and for a majority of the conversation, Alejandro found his thoughts quite filled with images of Heather in some of his other clothes — and, sometimes, without any clothing whatsoever, though he wasn't particularly aware of this until his cellphone vibrated noisily on the table as it received a text message, and Alejandro was suddenly pulled from his revelry.

He swore silently to himself for drifting off as he read the message, acutely aware that everyone's gaze was now focused on him. "Emilia just texted me. She said they're almost here, so we can leave if we have other places to be."

"Let me just grab my purse — I think I left it upstairs." Courtney said as she placed her papers back into the folder and stood.

Heather stood up as well. "I'll go with you." She reached for some of the dishes on the table and Alejandro, without quite realizing what he was doing, placed a hand on her wrist to stop her. She looked at him, expression a curious mix of annoyance and interest, and Alejandro's heart skipped a beat as he felt that spark once again.

"Allow me," he told her, and wordlessly, she drew her hand away before nodding and following Courtney out of the kitchen. Alejandro watched her until she rounded the corner, only to turn to look at José in irritation when the older man chuckled softly. "What's so funny?"

José merely shrugged. "She must have been incredible if you're already this mesmerized after knowing her for barely twelve hours." He stood up and picked up the plates closest to him. "Come on, _Alejito_. It wouldn't do to leave dirty dishes in the sink for Ambrosio and Emilia when they get here."

Begrudgingly, Alejandro followed his brother's lead, and for the next few minutes, the two washed the dishes in a strange sort of silence. Something about José's behavior struck Alejandro as odd, or at least as odd as could be expected, but the arrival of Ambrosio and his daughter, and Heather and Courtney's return downstairs, prevented him from saying anything more. In the flurry of activity that followed thereafter, as introductions were made and updates on Isabel's condition and the state of the restaurant were made to the relevant parties interested in such information, Alejandro rather forget the arrangements that had been made until José and Courtney had already gone and Emilia and her father to the restaurant, leaving him alone with Heather for the first time since they had been discovered that morning.

To say the tension in the air was tangible was an understatement; upon finding herself alone with Alejandro, Heather had dropped her professional air almost immediately, and had wasted no time in fixing him with her most frigid glare yet as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Look — last night was a lot of fun, and I appreciate you giving me a ride home, but don't expect anything more to come out of this, okay?" Heather tucked her hair behind one ear and narrowed her eyes at him. "I make it a rule to never mix my professional life with my personal life, and I'm not changing going back on it just because I'm planning my best friend's wedding."

Alejandro nodded, though he didn't look at her, opting instead to clean up the kitchen a bit more as he responded. "Understandable. Logical, even. I don't blame you." He tossed a paper towel into the trash bin and moved toward the sink to wash his hands. "But if you find yourself looking for a good time, you know where to find me. I must confess, last night was perhaps the most fun I have had in a while, myself."

"Ugh. Could you be anymore of an arrogant jerk?" Heather shuddered. "Anyway, I'm ready to leave whenever you are, though I'd prefer it to be sooner rather than later. I'll be waiting here."

"As you wish." Alejandro turned to face Heather. "Simply give me five minutes, and we shall be on our way."

And so it was that four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Alejandro found himself pulling out of the parking garage with a very bored-looking Heather sitting beside him in the passenger seat. It was already almost half-past noon, and Alejandro himself lived almost thirty minutes away from the restaurant; it was true that Heather didn't live quite as far, but even dropping her off would take at least some time, and if it was the silent treatment he would be subjected to while driving her home, the entire trip would seem even longer — for all intents and purposes, Alejandro considered himself a patient man, but that did not mean he was particularly looking forward to the drive ahead.

With a sigh, Alejandro turned on the radio. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Heather glance curiously at the channel number of the station being played before turning to look back out the window listlessly. "You do not mind if listen to music while driving, do you?"

Heather scoffed. "Whatever floats your boat. I don't care."

Alejandro could feel his patience starting to grow thin. He had been on edge ever since Courtney and José had discovered him in bed with Heather that morning, and José's continuous stream of sardonic comments and comebacks had not helped matters whatsoever — Heather's own attitude toward him was simply the icing on a very unpleasant cake. It had been relatively simple to ignore when José and Courtney had been around, of course, but the task was considerably more difficult in the confines of the car. It was grating, to say the least, but Alejandro forced himself to remain the very picture of serenity. Instead, he flashed Heather a quicksilver grin. "That's not what you said last night."

She whipped around quickly to face him. "You pompous, arrogant _jerk_ , I already told you — "

" — that you do not mix your personal and professional lives, I know." Alejandro tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "And I truly respect your decision. But whether you like it or not, I am now a part of both your professional and personal lives, and in a way, you are part of mine." He paused thoughtfully. "Though I must confess that I am not entirely unopposed to it."

"Seriously? Are you _kidding_ me?" Heather's gaze hardened. "You're going to flirt with me _now_?"

Naturally — Alejandro was a Burromuerto, after all. It was in his blood. "It's better than you ignoring me."

"Maybe, but that happens to be what I _do_ to people who annoy me."

He didn't miss the self-righteously snobby tone of voice she used, either. "So why don't you do it to everyone, then?"

"Because it's bad for business," Heather replied matter-of-factly. She frowned at him. "You'd know that better than anyone."

Slowing as they approached a red light, Alejandro scowled and looked at Heather. "True, but I do not ignore people when they are actually trying to be nice to me. What did I ever do to you, anyway?"

"I just… I don't like people like you very much, okay?" Her frown deepened, furrowing her brow even further and making the small cleft in her chin that much more pronounced, and for a few long, tense moments, neither of them spoke. It was only when the light turned green and Alejandro gently placed his foot back on the gas pedal to accelerate that Heather exhaled sharply. "You know what? Just forget about it." She turned back to the window.

Alejandro shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot do that," he told her as he turned onto a side street that led to Heather's apartment complex. "You see, now you've made me intrigued, and it is very hard for me to forget something I find so fascinating. And I do not mean the sex alone, although I must admit that it has been quite some time since I last had that much fun in bed with a woman."

Heather winced. "Do you _have_ to say it like that?"

"Not really." He shrugged and narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at the street signs as they passed so that he would not miss the correct one. "But if it will make you talk to me, then so be it. Of course, if it also means that one day in the near future we may have a repeat of last night, then I will naturally continue to do so."

"You're _disgusting_ ," came the reply, and Alejandro was pleased to note that her tone was not _quite_ as venomous as it had been a few minutes ago. "It's S— Lane, by the way. Not the next left, but the one right after it."

He nodded. "Duly noted." Carefully, he took the turn, nodding appreciatively as the complex came into view. "These are very nice apartments," he told Heather.

She shrugged. "I guess — they''re a little out of the way, but the rent's not too bad." Her voice grew soft. "And my family can't barge in whenever they feel like it. It's this building, first one on the right."

"Always a blessing," Alejandro replied as he pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of the building. "I know exactly what you mean." He put the car in park and unlocked it before turning to look at her properly — he may have been irked by her behavior and attitude, but for some unfathomable reason, there was still a part of Alejandro that hoped she would stop hating him, at least until the wedding was over, and he wanted at least one last proper look at her to hold on to.

The door opened, and Heather swung one leg outside, before something seemed to cross her mind and she pulled it back in and closed the door. "This is going to sound so stupid, but could I ask you to do me another favor and come up to my apartment with me?" She rubbed her temple tiredly. "There are a bunch of old ladies who live here that have been trying to get me with their sons and grandsons ever since I moved in, and… I may have gotten so fed up with it that I told them I'm seeing someone."

Alejandro could see where this was going. "And you want me to be your boyfriend, right?" He narrowed his eyes. "Do not forget that you just insulted me for no reason at all when I was gracious enough to drive you home. Because I certainly will not."

"I'm _serious_." Heather huffed impatiently. "Look, that's only part of it: the old lady who lives across the hall from me is the sister of the owner of one of the most successful wedding dress emporiums in the area, and the one who lives right below me? Her son may be one of those weird, eccentric art-types, but he's still one of the best wedding photographers I know. _And_ I get discounts." She looked at him pointedly. "But I don't get those discounts if I look like a sorority girl coming home from a one-night stand at a frat house."

The urge to make a comment about how Heather would surely have experience with such a thing was overwhelming, but Alejandro managed to quell the feeling. "So you want me to pretend I am your Latin boy-toy so a group of old biddies won't think you're a loose woman and subsequently retract their offers of their connections to their respective businesses so that you may further yours." He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Considering that you flirted and then slept with a man you had met at a bar last night, however, I can see why you may be somewhat apprehensive about the situation."

Heather scowled. "It's not that simple — It's all strategic. But I'll spare you the details. I don't even know why I told you all that in the first place." She leaned closer to him, voice taking on a colder, more threatening edge. "All you need to know is that if you mess this up for me, I will make your life absolutely miserable until the moment Courtney and your brother say _I do_."

"I'm listening," Alejandro replied. "But what do I get out of this arrangement?" He smirked. "I hope you understood that whatever I said earlier was not simply playful flirting; perhaps an agreement can be made?"

In a matter of seconds, Heather's face paled, and just as quickly turned red with anger. "If you think I would even _consider_ being just another booty-call to a manipulative, self-absorbed bastard like you, then think again."

"Please," Alejandro scoffed, "as if I have ever had trouble in finding a partner for such things." His expression became smug. "But I was serious when I said last night was the most fun I'd had in a while. And so, I have a proposition, though I suspect you may have already figured out what it is."

Biting her lower lip in thought, Heather leaned back in her seat as she contemplated his offer; Alejandro could see the the gears in her mind turning it over carefully. "I was serious when I said I don't mix business and pleasure."

"And _I_ was serious when I said that your professional and private lives were going to become entwined with each other in these coming months, whether you like it or not. Whether it ultimately proves to be pleasurable is another matter entirely, though I can certainly guarantee it if you choose to go through with this alliance."

She blinked at him. "I wouldn't call this an _alliance_ ," Heather responded. She crossed her arms. "But you _do_ have a point. And last night was _really_ great."

"Have you made your decision?"

"You have to promise me that we are going to keep this thing _strictly_ casual. No strings attached. Got it? And you can't have anyone else on the sidelines — I don't like getting caught up in things when I have work to do, and it's not fair if you get to and I'm your last resort out of desperation."

_Desperation_. Alejandro wanted to laugh; he was never desperate. But he nodded nonetheless, and offered Heather his hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

Heather looked down at it almost hesitantly before placing her hand in his. "All right. I'm in."

And so Alejandro turned off the engine of his car and followed Heather into the lobby of her apartment building, placing his arm comfortably around her shoulders and drawing her closer to himself as they waited for the elevator, and when she looked up at him in annoyance, he merely shrugged. "I am just doing what you asked."

She rolled her eyes at his response, but she didn't say anything more besides a few murmured directions as she led him to her apartment. Perhaps it was just as well — Heather had pulled her dark hair back into a loose bun while walking into the apartment, and Alejandro had found himself rather distracted by the sight of the bare skin of her neck. Mesmerized, even, but once again, whatever version of the story you heard depended entirely on whom it was you asked. Alejandro, for example, claimed that it was at this moment he felt the first stirrings of love, while Heather retorted that whatever _stirring_ he had felt hadn't been love at all, but was in fact nothing more than a significant amount of blood pooling into his lower body, for reasons you will understand quite soon.

In any event, aside from a few details, whatever happened next was something that was mostly agreed upon by all the parties involved, because after making it to the relative safety of her apartment, Heather asked Alejandro if he would like a cup of coffee before going home, to which he'd responded rather noncommittally. He'd then followed Heather to the kitchen, leaning against a counter as he watched her pour the grounds into a coffee filter and measure out the appropriate amount of water and admiring the way his shirt fitted her the entire time. Of course, he was so transfixed by the sight that he felt the need to tell her so, and so he crossed the kitchen in two long strides to do just that. Naturally, Heather chose that moment to turn around in order to warm up some milk for the coffee, only to find herself face-to-face with over six feet of an _incredibly_ hot-blooded and undeniably attractive young man. Tension filled the air between them once more, though now it wasn't _solely_ the kind spawned by animosity and hate, and for a long moment, neither Alejandro nor Heather spoke.

Then, without warning, Heather flung her arms around Alejandro's neck as she pressed her lips against his eagerly and pushed him out of the kitchen and into the living room. He followed her lead, and soon found himself with his back against a wall, with Heather pressing herself against him as she attempted to unbuckle his belt with one hand, the other tangling in Alejandro's hair in a way that was not unpleasant. Alejandro's hands splayed across her back possessively before trying to lift up and remove her clothes, but Heather pulled away slightly as he did so.

" _Leave it_ ," she hissed at him as his belt buckle finally became undone, and Alejandro was more than happy to comply — after all, there weren't any annoying family members in the vicinity to interrupt them _this_ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd originally outlined this chapter in such a way that it would have both ended at least three thousand words earlier and lacked a, ah, _hotter_ scene. But, then, the belligerent sexual tension between Heather and Alejandro took over, as well as José basically being a total ham and hogging the spotlight (and the sass) far more often than I would have liked. The end result, though, wasn't too bad, I think.
> 
> Apologies for any errors, mistakes, typos, etc. in this chapter; I'll go back and edit this later, but for now I just want to post it and get to bed. Still, as always, any feedback and critique would be wonderful, or any comments at all, really (this is the single-longest chapter I've written for any fic to date as a writer, even in my original fiction projects, so I'm simultaneously really proud of myself and extremely worried how it turned out, aha). Once again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


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